Angels dark and light
by Raeshiel
Summary: Omi's past was forgotten and deemed unimportant. But his secrets, deadly ones, are coming back to haunt him. And now Schwarz wants to use that secret for themselves. The question is no longer if Omi will survive, but if his friends will. YxK Ox?
1. The sickness

I'm writing again, sorry to some of you who have been waiting for me to write something else. This should be a good one, I hope; if I don't lose it it'll be fine. There is of course AyaXOmi andperhaps some others that I will not tell yet! X3

No, I sadly do not own WeiB or any of its characters (If I did I sure wouldn't have messed up Gluhen like that!)

Sorry this little bit is kind of short, I'm working on it!

&TT& &&

_Breathe…just keep breathing…it'll be over soon…_ Omi sat up straight in bed, arms around his stomach, sweat beading on his forehead. Fire coursed in his veins like broken glass. Every muscle was tense, gritting his teeth together and making his eyes clench shut. Kami-sama, he couldn't breathe, it hurt too much. There wasn't enough oxygen. He wished he would die. Maybe he would.

"Gnnh…" His gut twisted harder inside, making him emit a soft cry of pain. Omi tried to relax but nothing would. He bit his lip until it bled. Now how was he going to explain that one? Tears welled up but weren't large enough to run down his frozen cheeks. How could his body burn and yet be so cold?

Just as it had began and built up, so the torture started to subside. His muscles slowly loosened, and Omi lay down again to catch his breath. He wiped his hair from his face and wished he could just get some rest like everyone else. Instead, he was now wide awake and probably wouldn't get back to sleep in time to get any decent rest.

Big blue eyes stared out the window at the night sky. It was beautiful out, and he got up to open the window. The little breeze was slightly warm, and even though it smelled strongly of asphalt and humanity, it still made Omi a bit happier. At least he could see some stars, and the moon was a bright crescent crowning the city.

He could fix this if he really wanted to; he didn't have to suffer this way. But the cure was more devastating than the disease. It made him shudder just to think about it. He preferred the pain; it wasn't that often anyway.

Omi sighed, letting the wind carry it away, perhaps with the thousand sighs of others with torn spirits. Sending out a last breathless exhalation he shut his window against the bodiless messenger of grief, warm and cold at the same time, just like him.

But no, there was warmth stealing back in his skin as he went to his computer and typed the date down on a computer. The glare was beginning to hurt his eyes again; too bright. He only made a quick note this time before closing the file and shutting the computer off. He really needed to sleep.

"Ne, Omi, you look wasted. Did you sneak out last night?" Yoji accosted him in the shop. Truthfully, Omi _did_ look like crap, but that didn't mean the blond man could rub his nose in it. He half-heartedly waved a hand at the playboy to leave him alone, who only laughed.

" Iie, I know. Omi got sick of just looking at those girls, so he had to go and find one for himself." This actually got the boy to shoot up in protest, a blush written all over his face. The phone rang and he gratefully answered it.

"Moshi moshi…"

"Omi, you forgot to write the rest of this address down. What's the fourth address on the order sheet?" It was Aya, out delivering flowers. Oops, and Omi had botched the list. Ahondara! Aya made him nervous, always glaring at him, as if he would kill the boy any minute. Omi still worried that he might, for his relation to the family Aya hated so much. Sometimes he wanted to shout at the man that he too suffered at his family's hands. But that wouldn't solve anything either. He made his way around a knot of girls to look at the board.

" Wh…which one is it again?" He tried not to stutter, really he did, but lack of sleep coupled with a cranky Aya did that to him. And Aya was cranky. Omi could hear it in his voice.

" The fourth."

" S…sorry." Omi gave him the address and stammered out another three apologies. After he hung up he slapped himself mentally. Stop it Omi, Aya's not that frightening! It was more that Omi respected him, but at times like this it became scary.

Either way, he had to leave work early. The world was starting to spin, and though Omi wouldn't throw up unless he allowed himself to, it was impossible to work with annoying girls and deal with nausea at the same time. He lay down on the couch, trying to collect everything together.

The rest of the guys came down relatively early. Omi was going to ask why they closed before they were supposed to, until he saw Manx with them. Oh, another mission. He tried to get up, but spots blinked in and out of his vision. Damn it all…

He had to tell Ken that yes, he'd do whatever it was, because he really didn't feel good right now. And the brunette was making it worse.


	2. Dreams and Sushi

I'm sorry this took so long. My computer got two viruses, or I would have had this done two days after the first. Gomen nasai.

Thanks everyone who reviewed, I'd name you all but my time on this comp is running out fast.

o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o

Aya growled as he hung up the phone; this was ridiculous. Omi's handwriting, usually so neat and pristine, was more like childish scratches in the sand than anything legible. He'd gone to the wrong address twice, the flowers were doubled over once, and the fourth order wasn't even finished. He'd have to talk to Omi when he got back.

But he returned at the same time Manx came in, and Omi wasn't anywhere to be found. It was only Ken and Yoji in the basement. Aya listened to Persia's assignment, another political drug ringleader to be taken care of, and nodded when Manx asked for their participation. Ken spoke for Omi, saying the boy was going to do it, but was sick at the moment. Manx nodded, and, avoiding Yoji's glances, left upstairs.

"Ken, go tell Omi what we're doing." The playboy yawned as he lounged on the couch, regarding the ceiling with vague disinterest. Ken started and looked at Yoji with a surprised expression.

" I'm going to go see a soccer tournament tomorrow. What if he's contagious? I don't want to get sick!" Ken's voice rose. Yoji rolled his eyes.

" If he was that sick, he wouldn't have agreed to do the mission."

" Then you go tell him."

" No."

" See!" Ken shouted triumphantly. Aya silenced him with a glare. Yoji complained that he was comfortable on the couch, and if Omi _was_ contagious, he couldn't get sick for his lovely girls. This started another chain of bickering, and Aya left them to it. He went upstairs and knocked on Omi's door. As there was no answer, he simply let himself in.

His heart skipped a beat when he saw Omi laying on the floor. Aya rushed over and pulled his teammate up into a sitting position leaning up against him. Omi was sweating, but his skin was frighteningly cool. Inspection ruled him to be alive, but Aya had never known the boy to simply pass out in the middle of his room. He calmed down when Omi's breathing was normal, and he appeared to simply be asleep.

Aya cared for Omi like a little brother, watched over him as he did his sister. The youngest member of Weiß was so considerate to everyone, even through all of the shit his own life had been, and he enjoyed it when the others were simply happy. Aya-chan had been like that. Both of them were angels in his life, ones he swore to protect.

There was a time, when Aya had learned that Omi was part of the Takatori family, that he had considered his revenge against the blond. But he simply couldn't identify the kind chibi with the family he belonged to. And considering they didn't exactly welcome him with open arms, well, he thought of Omi as Tsukiyono.

" Onii-chan…Otoo-san…iie…" Omi shifted, then woke up, looking straight into Aya's eyes. He shot up as if he'd been burned. Aya stood up and leaned against the wall like this was an everyday occurrence. Though it wasn't, Aya was never one to act out in strange situations.

" What happened?" Aya had never asked Omi about his scarcely remembered past, but he knew enough to understand why the boy would dream about his father. And his brothers…they had had enough experience with them that even Ken had nightmares about Masafumi.

" Nothing…I'm just not feeling well. I'll be fine tomorrow." Omi said, getting up pulling the blankets away from the top of his bed. Aya's silence communicated his disbelief better than anything he could have said. " No really, I think it's just one of those 24 hour flu things."

" Are you sure you weren't attacked?" He asked again. Omi shook his head. Aya didn't believe him for one minute. The boy was already pale; he was trembling even as he stood. Aya shook his head and shut the door behind him. The answer would come; it always did, one way or another.

o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.

Omi shakily sat down on his bed. He was so embarrassed that Aya had to come in and find him like that. But he was glad that the man had woken him from his terrible nightmare. It was the same one he always had when he was like this. The one about his father abandoning him…and the shadows in the room turning into his brothers…

_" Hold him still…" came the voice from the shade that had become Masafumi. Now so much younger, Omi fought uselessly against the shadows that bound him to the floor like ropes. Someone was doing something behind him…Hirofumi's face came into view…he was holding Omi's arms up above his head._

_" Onii-chan…What are you doing?" Omi pleaded, but his brothers smiled. Their eyes turned red, and something burned in Omi's arm. The pain spread all the way down until it reached his heart, and he blacked out with a scream._

He'd woken up to violet eyes staring down at him. Now Aya was going to think he was weak. He didn't want to let his leader down. If the red haired man thought so little of him, if he thought Omi was useless, he couldn't bear it. He was part of this team, they were like family, and he wouldn't let anyone down. Not if he could help it.

" At least I'll get better after the mission." He mumbled to no one in particular.

o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.

"Aya, you want some dinner? Yoji made sushi." Ken waved a piece of it in the air to catch Aya's attention when he came back downstairs. Aya thanked whoever was watching down on him that Ken wasn't cooking tonight. Last week he had tried to boil rice, and run out of the kitchen shouting excitedly that he'd figured out how they made Rice Krispies.

" I thought it would be nice if we had real food around here. And since I am a master chef…" Yoji handed him a plate of food, making sure to add an extra slice of ginger for the redhead. Aya mused on how rare it was that Yoji cooked. Was it because the act reminded him of Asuka? How could it? He'd always thought that she would be the chef. But on second thought, Yoji was a man of many talents, and what woman wouldn't love a man who cooked for her?

" Yeah, right Yoji…hey, wow this _is_ good!" Ken was talking with his mouth full, again, which tended to bother Aya immensely. The brunette was right, however. The food was delicious.

" Ne, Aya, is Omi really sick?" Yoji asked after sitting down himself. Ken finally shut his mouth and looked over at Aya as well. Aya hated to be the center of attention, and he spoke with as few words as possible.

" I found him on the floor. He said he was sick, but I've never seen him pass out."

" You know, Omi's been looking kind of pale lately. I wonder what he's got." Ken mused with his head resting on his hand. Yoji leaned back in his chair.

" Not only does he look sick, but he's been acting strange. Ken, you remember when you came upstairs from working out the other day? Omi took one look at you, gulped a few times, and ran out the door. Pardon me for saying, but I really don't think you're that stunning."

" What's that supposed to mean?"

" Nothing, Ken, nothing." Yoji said amusedly. Aya thought about this for a moment. Could Omi really like Ken? The suggestion was possible, though it didn't really seem like it. Well, if he did like Ken, Aya hoped that the brunette would requite his feelings. Omi deserved to be happy, although something about the idea bothered Aya. He shook it off and went downstairs to read a book.

He picked one off the shelf and collapsed on the couch, letting his feet sit on the top of the armrest. But he'd read it before, and he suddenly had the need to move around. He got up, irritated with himself, and went upstairs to go for a walk. As he passed by the computer, he noticed Omi sitting there staring at the screen. He walked up behind the boy.

"Shouldn't you be resting?" he said. Omi jumped in his chair.

" Aya! Don't sneak up on me like that! I'm fine. I'm just looking up the information on our target, see?" He indicated the computer screen and sure enough there was a profile on a Mr. Yamashita, leader of some right wing party. An unimportant man in an insignificant political party, until you counted the deaths of those who had probably discovered his underground drug dealing.

Aya was satisfied with this, but reminded Omi again that he should be asleep. The boy still looked pale, but that could be the computer light. He went outside, and the night air felt good on his face. He had needed to take a walk.

Aya found himself making his way to the hospital; he went inside, up the stairs into the familiar room that for the moment housed Aya-chan. As always, there was a storm of emotions when he was here. Though his sister was alive, there were times when Aya doubted if she would ever wake. He missed her fiercely.

He thought, sometimes, of what life would be like when she woke up. He didn't know if he would still work at the flower shop; maybe he would, just because…he didn't know what compelled him to stay. She could get to know Ken, and Omi…he might have issues letting Yoji near her. All the same, somehow those three had come to be thought of as friends to Aya, and they would all love his sister, he knew it. Someday…

" Someday, Aya. Someday we'll walk together again." Outside the wind blew the dark flowers from the brush stroke trees into the shadows if inky night. They collected at the feet of a fallen angel who stared into the wind with dark eyes cold as the amethyst stones they resembled.


	3. A hunter's instinct

A slight warning to you who are unable to stomach shounen-ai: there's a bit here in this chapter.

Thank you to everyone who's patient enough to wait for these.

0.0.0.0.0.0.0.0.0.0.0.0.0.0

Omi had seen Aya come down the stairs, had watched the redhead as he pulled a book from the shelf and lounged on the couch. He couldn't help but stare, for Aya never lounged; he always seemed too hard and unyielding for that. He probably didn't see the boy either. Maybe he only relaxed like this alone. Omi smiled inwardly at the thought of a wildlife presentation, like on National Geographic…

" Here we have been fortunate enough to catch one of the rarest glimpses in the world, the Fujimiya at rest. Normally brooding and silent, right now there is almost an air of relaxation about this creature. Nothing much is known about the Fujimiya other than the glaring quiet demeanor of its defense…" Omi had wanted to work for the National Geographic once upon a time, when he was very young. He quickly learned that he had no gift of photography, no talent whatsoever. And it didn't really bother him, that silly unfulfilled, childhood ambition.

Omi felt estranged now from those who had the right to be dreamers. So many innocent people in the city, and so many others out to hurt them, exploit them, control them. Those like Omi would destroy the dark beasts, even if it meant sacrificing their own desires. He himself had lost his innocence; it had been stolen by the beasts he fought, worn away every time he encountered their blackness, but it never returned once he destroyed them. In its place…mysterious things he didn't understand.

He closed his eyes against the light from the ceiling and from the computer in front of which he sat. He could smell the fabric of the couch from here, and another smell with it. Omi breathed in again, trying to identify it, but quickly stopped himself when he realized what he was doing. Frightened, the boy opened his eyes, trying to dispel the looming disease in his mind. Suddenly his attention was caught by the object of his investigation only a moment ago. Again, he had no eye for beauty, but this was breathtaking.

Aya's eyes were closed for just a moment, and though he seemed so tense, it was cat like and graceful, like a panther dozing in the sun. Omi had watched him before, but just now, as he reclined across the couch, the redhead really was amazing. The man's muscles were taught as a bowstring, hiding power in them, and his blood red hair moved like silk. Unable to resist the urge a second time, Omi breathed in the scent of roses and flesh, intoxicated by it.

He desperately wanted to get up and move closer to the couch. Aya's skin was so pale, so smooth…Omi could almost imagine how warm it was to the touch. He could nearly feel the other's skin against his lips…He shrank back from himself, appalled. He needed to do something else, something to get his mind off of…that. He turned to the computer again, the light hurting his eyes even more, and feverishly ran searches on their target. Yes, that would distract him.

His fingers were cold as he typed, and his chest began to ache again. Omi fought against what felt like poison shifting inside of his blood. Just…focus…on something else. Anything else. The mission, he could do that. It was relatively simple, and he looked up much more than he had to. Just think about the target, it was all he had to do…

He jumped when Aya came up next to him, not because he couldn't hear him, but because he could. Those eyes glared down at him, seemed to look through him, and he grew afraid. Afraid that someone would know. Afraid it might be the one confronting him now. He told Aya he was fine, even though he was trying to fight himself because the man was this close. His pulse quickened, sharply contrasting the steady beat of Aya's. The man didn't believe him, obviously, but he left nonetheless. Omi slumped down again with a sigh of relief and pain. His hand ran through his hair and returned to rest on his cool forehead.

_I wish I could tell you, Aya. But you would hate me, even more than you might now. And I don't understand what's happening now. _Omi shivered, even though it was nice and warm downstairs. _I'm afraid…_

The mission, they had to complete it soon. If they didn't…Omi trembled at the thought, or was he so cold? Something was going to give, and someone was going to get hurt. He went back to the computer to renew his ongoing search, one the others knew nothing about. It was so complicated, and he was afraid there was no solution to this deadly puzzle.

What would he do? There really was no way he could tell the others, who to him were the family he never had, especially since they bore the consequences of the bloody riddle. Would they kill him, or simply send him away? They couldn't just let him stay with them. And if Kritiker found out…there would be no tomorrow for Omi Tsukiyono.

If he left of his own accord, what would it mean for the future? He would simply become one of the dark beasts Weiß was sworn to kill. Omi could never do that to his friends. But surely staying here is just as dangerous? He didn't know what he should do. And there was no one who could help him either.

As it had been for the past month and a half when it began, Omi found no key, not even a hint of a clue to an answer. Nothing. Maybe there was no way out, and he would be surrounded with fatality forever. Darkness gripped his mind, sending him into teary eyed despair, and he ran to his room. He could not bear to be responsible for their death.

He was so blind in his hurry that he slammed straight into Yoji in the hallway, knocking himself down. The blond looked down, surprised, and offered a hand. Omi stared at it, could hear the blood pounding in his ears, and ran into his room and slammed the door. He was breathing heavily as he sobbed into his pillow.

0.0.0.0.0.0.0.0.0.0.0.0.0.0.0.0.0.0

" What was that all about?" Ken had come out of Yoji's room to see what was going on. Yoji could only keep staring at the chibi's closed door incredulously. He had never seen Omitchi's eyes so large. He turned to the brunette.

" Do I have something on my face?" he asked. Ken shook his head, and Yoji's brow furrowed. " You'd think I had claws or something the way he was looking at me." He looked at his hand, but nothing seemed wrong with it to him.

" Hey, I'll bet Aya said something nasty to him. Did you see his face when he left? I thought he was going to kill something!" Ken said, his eyes following Yoji's to rest on the door. " I hope he didn't hurt his feelings too badly, you know how Omi is."

" How would you know how Omi is?" The blond turned to face Ken, whose shirt was half off and his hair in disarray. The soccer player smiled and inched back into the room. Yoji followed and shut the door behind him.

" I'm joking, Yoji. Just joking." Ken planted a kiss on the other man's neck. Yoji looked away for a moment, sitting down on the edge of the bed. He had to ask, it was important, not only to him, but to Omi as well.

" Ken, what would you do if Omi did…if Omi was in love with you." The brunette sat down next to him and snuggled underneath his arms until they were around the soccer player. Yoji held him closer, savoring the way he smelled.

" I don't know…I never thought about it…" The way Ken said that made Yoji nervous. The chibi was adorable, anyone could see it. Those big blue eyes, the angelic face. What if Ken decided he'd never really loved Yoji, that it was only a passing feeling? The blond man didn't know if he could stand it.

" Ken…" Yoji would have continued, but the soccer player had covered his lips with his own. Ken's lips opened just a little, teasing. Yoji let him tease his lips for a bit, but he was never one to let his lover dominate. He released himself from Ken's hold, and pushed the brunette down onto the soft tangled mass of blankets with one of those kisses he was famous for. " I just wanted to tell you, I'll love you forever."

" Yoji…" Ken reached up to stroke his lover's chest. " I'm not leaving you, okay? I love you too."

0.0.0.0.0.0.0.0.0.0.0.0.0.0.0

Aya came back in tired and a little cold. He'd left without a jacket, and his shirt did nothing against the wind that almost blew him into the street. The house was warm, though, and Aya made his way to his room. Finally, after all the unanswered questions and stress of the day, he could get some sleep.

He heard suspicious noises in Yoji's room, and his calm expression immediately turned into a scowl. He told Yoji before that if the blond ever brought another woman to this place he'd make sure Yoji didn't go anywhere for a month. He'd catch them in the morning, when she tried to leave. He sure as hell had no desire to walk in on them now.

As he passed Omi's room he heard the distinct sound of sobbing, but Aya simply walked past. There was nothing he could do if the boy was keeping it to himself. At any rate, it might be trivial enough to simply be nightmares. He supposed Ken would ask in the morning, as no one near Omi's room could miss the crying, except Yoji, who probably couldn't hear anything.

Aya felt even more tired now. He and Ken seemed to be the only sane ones here, because Omi was doing something strange. Yoji had always been a pain in the ass, so that was expected. So only half of Weiß was functioning normally. Great, just great. He hoped that maybe this mission would smooth some things over and get them working together again. If at all possible, they'd get it done tomorrow night; Aya would tell them in the morning.

He went into his room and stripped his shirt off just before falling into bed. The moonlight lit his eyelids but he didn't care. Aya fell into the darkness of dreamless sleep. He hardly ever dreamt anymore; it would always be about…his sister…and he didn't want to watch her get hurt anymore.


	4. Could he understand me?

The standard disclaimer applies. I own no part of Weiss, but I retain the rights to my ideas as my own.

I'm sorry for taking so long, life tends to happen to the best of us. I'm not giving up, don't worry. I'm already composing the next chapter.

* * *

Schuldig inhaled slowly and deeply as Crawford kept talking. The smoke curled lazily from the cigarette poised between his long fingers, meeting his exhaled breath. The two twirled and intertwined with each other, and Schuldig just kept watching it. He knew Crawford knew he wasn't listening, but this was for the Irishman's and the little boy's sakes too. Speaking of sakes…he wondered if there was any _sake_ left in the cupboard. It was impossible to hide anything from the American. He always knew where you put it. Bradley didn't like it when he drank too much either. Hell, no one liked it; when Schuldig got drunk everyone within fifteen feet felt the hangover the next day.

" Are you listening to me Schuldig?" Crawford was glaring hard at the German, who was enjoying the rising buzz of anger in the man's mind. It was kind of spicy, and prickly at the same time.

" You tell me." Schu loved to pull that one, and Crawford absolutely _hated_ it when he used that line. Half the reason Schuldig did it in the first place…

" I asked you if you had confirmed the report." Brad spoke with slow, steady words, and Schuldig smiled. The precog wasn't perfect, no matter how much he put on the façade. Schu just liked to remind him of that every once in a while.

" Don't you know?" He caught the slightest catch in the American's thoughts, like a vortex beginning to swirl in his mind, and finally decided to drop his game. " Yes, yes, of course I did. And from the rising tensions surrounding the little blond, I'd say Takatori was right." Crawford nodded, as if he already knew Schuldig would say what he did. And _that_ bothered the German more than anything else; sometimes, just sometimes, he never knew if the aloof man really did know and had simply decided to play the rest of them.

" We attack, and you two," Crawford glared pointedly at Farfarello and Schuldig, " I want him in good condition, understand? No. games." Farfarello simply nodded, the German was a little put off. He wanted to have just a _little _bit of fun. Feeling mutinous, he rose from his seat on the couch.

" Nagi, be a dear and help me get Farfie to bed." Schuldig took the Irishman by the arm and led him forcefully away. He'd made the mistake of thinking Farf was okay with Brad's decree just a moment ago, but he suddenly noticed the knife emerging from the lining of the psycho's pants. The last thing they needed right now was an angry madman flinging sharp objects around the room. Every hole in the walls, with the exception of the ones in Nagi's room, was Farf's fault.

It really was easier to put Farfarello up for the night when the Japanese boy was there. It meant that while Schuldig was securing buckles and straps he was threading ropes through the appropriate pulleys and stays. And, to top it off, Nagi could simply levitate the psycho to where he was supposed to be until they secured him in his upside down position.

" Schuldig, do we really have to do all of this?" Nagi asked when they shut the door to the Irishman's room. The German stopped and looked at him but, like always, those blank eyes were completely unreadable and he didn't feel like giving the effort to make his way through the labyrinths of the boy's mind.

" He likes it, you know that. He thinks it hurts God." Schuldig smirked as he made his way down the hall. Nagi held back, head down. When he spoke it was very quiet. But the brunette was always quiet.

" You know what I mean, Schuldig. I'm not sure we should…" The way he said it made Schuldig stop in his tracks. He turned around to look perplexed at the boy standing so demurely in the middle of the hall, shook his head, and went into the living room again.

Nagi slowly moved to his own room and sat down on his bed. As an afterthought he glanced over at the bolt on his door, flicking the latch locked. He tilted his head back to stare at the ceiling, then out the window. Was this what he wanted? His memories flashed back to his childhood.

He was always alone. He remembered searching, seeking for anyone who would listen and understand. Instead, he was torn apart by the scathing words thrown at him from those he craved acceptance from. _Freak. Thing. Strange. Weird._ Those names, those people and places made him the quiet, but vengeful boy he was.

He had found a place in Schwarz. He respected Crawford, and had discovered some kind of recognition as part of their group. But he never could forget that none of them could empathize with him. None of them had been through…all that pain. The scores, the bruises, the cuts, the spurns, the rejection…the solitude.

He wanted them to pay, for all of humanity to suffer just as he did. He wanted them to feel alone and shunned. He would have retribution for the childhood they stole from him. The wind began to surge through his open window, blowing the curtains off the rods and throwing them all into a crumpled heap on the floor. Nagi stood in the middle of the tiny hurricane ripping through his room, eyes glowing.

Then he wondered if this creature had gone through everything he had. The wind faltered. Did he understand? Was he too, strange and alone? Was this boy rejected, even by his friends, as Nagi had been? He shut his eyes and let out a breath, and with it went all of the anger and resentfulness.

He looked around; now his room was a mess again. Crawford would be angry with him for losing his temper like that. He bent to pick up the curtain rods and the formless mass of cloth that had blown right off of them. Nagi calmed down even as he put everything back in its place.

Meanwhile, Schuldig sat down again on the couch across from Crawford, who was looking pensive. He regarded the German with a cool glance, then gazed off into oblivion again.

" Crawford, what do you want to do with him?" the psychic asked, his curiosity piqued. He seemed to have snapped the American from a vision, by the way the man suddenly turned his head to face Schuldig.

" I am merely curious to see if the Takatoris were so successful even in their adolescent years. Considering Masafumi's madness…" here Crawford smirked a little, " which never did get the results he desired, I wonder if their smaller projects may have had better results." Brad then proceeded to pick up the newspaper from the table and read it, as if to signify the end of the discussion.

Schuldig had no aptitude for biology and its sciences, but this was certainly an idea that could be toyed with. Chaos was the flavoring of the world, and with so much order life became very bland. It was simply the time to spice it up a little. In the worst case, they would still be dealing a blow to those Weiß idiots.

" Well, in a few days, we'll-"

" Tomorrow, Schuldig. Tomorrow."

" Really? That soon?" Schuldig was a little surprised. It usually took those cats a few days to coordinate themselves. "What makes you so sure? _Besides the fact that you probably already foresaw it?_ he added sarcastically to himself.

" Check Nagi's computer if you don't believe me." came the voice behind the newspaper. Schuldig glared at the barrier of black and white print, and did precisely that.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Omi was looking out at the moon over the city, his eyes pleading for a respite from hell. The stars echoed a metallic song only he could hear, a cold song of silent oblivion. His tears flowed anew, mingling with the dried remains still on his cheeks. He held his arms out to the unfeeling sky. They were torn and bloodied; he hadn't taken the time to wash the red away from them.

The boy fell to his knees, and he let out a silent scream. Anguish held every line of his body in its grip. The moonbeams washed his pale skin silver, turned his blood to mercury on his body. Like a statue of pain covered in ice he remained on the floor, soundlessly begging mercy from a spiteful Father.

Suddenly he broke the petrified stillness with a single sobbing breath. With that one issue of despair everything seemed to break, and he collapsed fully on the floor. Only the silence looked on, and cast pitiless shadows over him. Omi regained his calm, and sat against the wall facing his window. He closed his eyes, and began to lick his arms clean.

O_h Kami-sama how am I going to last?_

* * *

Still wondering what's up with Omitchi? You'll find out...sometime...


	5. But I have to do this or else

I have returned! And I am so ready to get this story moving again. Sorry for the hold up, for those of you who really wanted to know what was going on with Omi...

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

There was no alarm clock in Aya's room, but he woke up early without it. He meant to take up a position on the couch, to catch Yoji's lover as she left the house. He'd have evidence then, and Yoji would work early shifts for it. It would also save Omi from having to open the shop for a while. That boy did not look well.

It was a long time before any movement at all occurred in the quiet hall, but at last Aya heard a door open and shut, and footsteps creep cautiously on the floor. Finally; he'd waited a long time since he woke. Aya sat still and silent as a shadow, not wanting to frighten his target too quickly. Wait for the footsteps to reach the door… wait… wait…

But the sound went exactly the opposite direction, and Aya frowned in frustration and confusion. The refrigerator door opened, and he stood up sharply to see who in the hell was in the kitchen this early. The action shocked a small blonde, who innocently dropped the entire ice tray with a crash. Omi had jumped three feet in the air when Aya entered the kitchen. About to apologize, the frown on Aya's face deepened when he saw the gash on the boy's lips, and he changed his mind.

" Hurt yourself?" His voice was cooler than the ice melting on the floor, ice that Omi was scrabbling to pick up with visibly shaking hands. He looked up a moment at the question, then bent down to his task as another ice cube vibrated from his hand back to the floor.

" No! Well, yes… I hit my lip on the wall in my sleep…" the blonde muttered. Aya's eyes narrowed, but he knelt down to help put the cubes back in the tray, which was still sitting on the floor. There was a miniature lake on the tile, and Omi made for the mop in the closet. Aya's hand moved like lightning to grab his wrist. There was no way he was going to let the sick boy work when he should be resting. But Omi let out a small cry, and Aya let go of the wrist faster than when he'd reached for it.

" Omi, you're freezing!" There was no mistaking the shock in the older man's voice, no matter how calm it seemed. He put his hand to Omi's forehead, feeling there a creeping chill as well. His own brow furrowed in concern as he examined the younger blonde. Omi's eyes were glassy and a little bloodshot. He should have a fever, but instead of burning up it seemed he was freezing to death.

The blonde slowly reached for Aya's own wrist. He took it off of his forehead, and just held it there before him, as if in shock. He didn't blink as he stared at Aya's hand, and he was getting paler, which made the redhead not a little anxious about the boy's health. Suddenly they widened, and he wobbled a bit on his feet. He let go and tried to walk back to his room. Aya watched him unsteadily move toward the hall… to collapse into the arms of an unsuspecting Ken, walking out of the bathroom.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

" He's not going with us on this mission." Omi was back in bed, Ken having carried the limp body to his room with a comment on how cold he felt. Yoji had taken all the blankets from his room and Aya's to cover the sleeping boy. All three of them were adamant against Omi's insistence that he go on the assignment too.

" He's sick! Why does he keep getting out of bed?" Ken shook his head, extending and contracting his fingers in his gloves, getting them fit correctly. Yoji was sitting on the couch already. For such a well-kept man, he took relatively little time preparing himself for anything. Ken had asked him once before how he managed it.

" It's a talent, Ken." Yoji had said with a wink. " You do it so often it all comes naturally, and you don't have to think about it anymore." Well, whatever the reason, Yoji was the one who had to check on Omi this time, since he was the first one ready. This time there was no complaint.

Yoji lightly knocked, not wanting to give the poor chibi a headache if he didn't have to. There was no reply from inside, but he quietly opened the door anyway. He was supposed to check on him, after all, not keep him under room arrest. A movement from under the mountain of blankets eventually led to the appearance of a head at the foot of the bed. Omi's hair was dripping with sweat, and a little color had returned to his face, but his eyes were still strange, and he looked tired.

"Congratulations, you're a boy." Yoji smirked at the blush that flew across the boy's cheeks before he quickly retreated back underneath the mountain. He drew up a chair to the bed, and poked at the pile. A mumble escaped from the thick layers, and Yoji had to lean close and ask Omi to repeat what he said before he made it out.

"I said I'm going too." The boy's head emerged again, this time followed by damp shoulders. Yoji raised an eyebrow; Omi was fully dressed to go. He shook his head though, and stood up. Omi sensed what he was about to say, because he came out from the blankets even more. Yoji spoke before the younger blonde could say anything, however.

" Omi… do you have any idea what you look like? By all rights we could put you in a hospital. But you know how Manx is…" Yoji put his hand up and pointed at Omi when he tied to sit up and follow the older man to the door. " You, my chibi, are far too sick to go. You can go the next one, no big deal. We have plenty of missions."

"You don't understand; I _have_ to go on this mission." The boy was already struggling to free himself from the tangling mass of cloth. " I _need_ to go." He was standing now, looking up at the taller man. Yoji was shocked, unsure if it was the fact that Omi kept trying to work while so sick or if it was the force behind his words that stunned him.

"Yoji, please. I can't not go. I can't. Please. I have to carry out this assignment too." Omi was begging now, feverish eyes gleaming strangely in supplication. His hair stuck to his face, and even his clothes were damp and wrinkled. Yoji took one of Omi's hands in his. He wasn't icy anymore, but still colder than he should be, and his skin was clammy from the sweat. Yoji shook his head again.

" I'm sorry, but you're in no condition for that kind of work. If you're going anywhere, it's to the shower. Go to bed, Omi. You really need sleep." Yoji said kindly, hoping Omi would listen this time. How could the kid be so adamant? Couldn't he just sit still and let himself heal? Yoji turned to leave, but quick movement caught his eye. With one movement he stepped in the way of the door and let loose the wire from his watch. It was more impulse and self-defense than anything else, but it surprised him nonetheless.

" Omi, _what_ is so important about this mission?" Omi had almost tried to attack the older man, just to get out the door? He couldn't move now, bound up in the shining cords, but he was trying.

" The guards…" Omi managed to say.

" We can take care of them ourselves, don't worry. I'll keep them all safe for you." Yoji laughed, but apparently it wasn't amusing to the chibi struggling in front of him. The younger blonde simply stared ahead, his eyes blazing with a fever he didn't have. Omi wouldn't say another word, and continued against the cords silently.

" Damn." Yoji whispered to himself, bending down to help the boy. They weren't even tight. Omi's struggles lessened with the loosening of his bonds, and when he was totally released, he took a shaky step toward the door, as though wearied by his efforts of only minutes ago. Yoji put out an arm to stop him, and was worried by how little resistance he met. Omi's eyes were closing by themselves, and Yoji steered him to the bed before he could collapse to the floor.

Omi, apparently resigned to his fate, climbed into bed again with a sigh, the expanse of blankets tucked all the way to his chin. Feeling a little better now that the patient was cooperating, Yoji edged out of the room, slowly. It didn't hurt to be careful. He shut the door softly behind him.

" See ya, Omitchi." There was a muffled groan from inside, and that made Yoji feel better. Frighteningly sick or not, he could still get a reaction from little Omi. If _that_ ceased, then he knew something was seriously wrong.

He met the others in the living room, and he must have had a look on his face, because Aya's usual glare darkened. Ken, who had been watching soccer on the TV, turned around when he saw Aya, with a question on his face. His eyes widened when he saw Yoji, and he rushed to him.

"Yoji, you look pale! You're not getting sick too?" Ken put a hand to Yoji's face, and the man stole a glance in Aya's direction, watching for any changes in his expression. Or how about any expression at all… But so far the redhead didn't know about Yoji and Ken, and he payed no attention to the brunette asking Yoji all sorts of medically pointless questions.

" How many fingers do you see?" Ken waved his gloved hand in front of the older man's face. Yoji made a grab for the thing; if the soccer player wasn't careful, he'd poke his lover's eyes out with those things.

" Three, if you would hold them still. Now…Ken…Ken! I'm fine, look. I'm not dying, let me go." Yoji heard the sound of the car starting. He pushed the hand away from his forehead and ran toward the garage. Ken shrugged with a sigh and a look at the ceiling and followed.

" We need to make this quick, guys. Omi's not well." Yoji said as he took his place in the passenger's seat next to Aya, who refused to let anyone else drive his car. Ken poked his head between the seats.

" Thank you Captain Obvious."

" No, I mean it." Yoji proceeded to tell the other two about what had happened in Omi's room. At the end of his story, Ken sat back with one of those expressions that meant he was thinking hard enough to make his head blow up. Aya, true to his nature, said nothing and did nothing except drive.

" He actually attacked you? That's weird." Ken put in after a moment. " He's never hurt anyone before…well, there was that gun thing with Hirofumi, but that was different. He didn't actually _do_ anything."

"He's always been a restless patient. He hates being sick." Yoji pointed out to him.

" Remember when me and Omi got the flu last year, and he kept trying to take care of me? I had to lock the door to keep him away!" Ken laughed in the backseat.

" And he could barely walk on his…own…" Yoji let the sentence die off. Omi and Ken again… he was not liking the pattern of things. Ken belonged to _him_; he was not going to let anyone take him away. The soccer player had said there was no one but him…but then…

" I studied the files. There is nothing special about the guards; Ken can deal with them easily. So why is Omi so worried about them…" Aya spoke suddenly, making Yoji jump.

" What would make him need to come with us so badly that he would try and force his way past…?" The question was thrown out into the dark, and no one knew the answer. No one except Omi, but he wasn't talking about it.


	6. Into the hands of a nightmare

Alright, let's go through this _again, _since I got grief for not doing it before...

A) I do not own any part of WeiB Kreuz, nor do I seek to

B) Takehito Koyasu owns it all, so take up your Gluhen issues with him, because I'm sick of hearing about it too.

And now, let the chapter begin...

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

The door shut with a sickening finality that spread doom over Omi's mind. It was time to pay his penance for the many lives he'd taken. He had become just as guilty as they, and expected to share their fate in Hell. The boy half hoped that he would go numb before death claimed him…or maybe he could die in his sleep. It didn't seem so frightening that way. And maybe he could dream one last time. A passage from a book he'd read long ago flitted across his mind.

_For in that sleep of Death what dreams may come..._ It sent a shiver through his spine completely unrelated to the poison in his body. The truth was he was terrified. Death, in all of its void darkness, yawned with gaping jaws before him, and he trembled. Not for the mystery, but for the _certainty_ of punishment for his sins.

Almost immediately Omi jumped up from bed. He couldn't give up… he didn't want to die. His clothes felt so heavy, but he heaved himself to the floor, using the bedside table to help himself to his feet. There were things he loved too much in this world to leave behind so quickly. He had so many things he wanted to do and see… No, quitting was never an option. He'd never allowed himself that luxury.

They couldn't stop him from going. He would just have to find his own way to the nice government hotel their target was currently staying at. That was the advantage of gathering information; he knew everything he needed to know without having to ask.

He had told Yoji the truth. He needed to go. It was a matter of life and death, and not only his own if things went horribly wrong. Now timing was critical, and Omi's mind buzzed with thousands of problems and answers. He couldn't find his teammates too soon, nor could he linger overlong. If everything went right, they might never know he had left. And everything would be okay…

Omi leaned heavily against the wall, needing it even to stand. He silently thanked whoever might be watching over him that his body was not tearing itself apart at the moment, or he'd never make it. He felt so tired just walking down the hallway, but he steeled himself for the longer journey. He'd never been this bad before. But of course, the boy thought as he made his painfully slow way down the hall, he'd never let himself go for so long before.

_Baka_! _Baka_, _baka_, _baka_! he berated himself. Why had he not taken the necessary measures to alleviate this, even if it was only a temporary solution? Why? _Because you hate to sacrifice an innocent, no matter what the cost to you._

Which was why he always waited for a mission. It didn't feel quite so wrong that way, killing them. They were condemned anyway. But Omi never liked bloodshed, not even when he was forced to do it. Now his reasons made the crime even worse. He slipped from the wall and fell to his knees.

_Stop condemning yourself, Omi, and focus!_ So what was he going to do now? The boy managed to crawl for what felt like an eternity to the couch. Somehow he managed to lift himself onto it. Good timing, too. He could feel the oncoming cold, overwhelming him faster now than it ever had before.

Vertigo began to claim his mind, and the room lurched in front of him. He put a hand to his head, and could feel the blood throbbing in his temple. It felt like his skull was collapsing in on itself. He could almost feel the blood drain from his painfully tingling fingers, making them cold on his face.

"No Omi. No. Focus, you need to keep moving. Come on… come on…" He talked to himself, concentrating on his own voice, trying to keep his mind away from the tearing pain. If he could make it go away long enough to get out of the house and…

Suddenly every sound in the house amplified, making Omi shut his eyes in pain. The usually almost imperceptible buzz of electricity became an angry, never ceasing roar. His own breathing filled his ears, and his unsteady heartbeat hammered. Omi clapped his hands to his ears, but the resulting noise made him gasp in shock and drop them.

_What's going on? It's going out of control…_ Omi felt like he could hear his own thoughts with his ears. He didn't dare speak out loud.

It grew louder, increasing by the moment. Every noise overwhelmed his brain, blocking even thought now, and underneath it all was a rush of blood. Would his eardrums burst and bleed? He'd heard about that, but had never seen it before…

The hurricane of noise ceased all at once, and Omi's eyes opened in a wide, frantic stare. Oh Kami-sama please don't let him have gone deaf… He strained his ears to catch anything, any whisper. He felt himself panic underneath the muscle-clenching pain that still wracked his body. He'd forgotten about the agony in his very bones through the noise. But now where was the sound? The ensuing silence was almost more terrifying than the ferocity of noise.

"_Would you rather hear it all?"_ came a strange voice in his head. In a brief moment the auditory fury returned, and Omi actually fell back against the couch by the sheer force of its overwhelming power. But it was silenced just as quickly, leaving only the fading echoes of a nasal laugh.

If Omi thought he could not feel any colder, he was wrong. And the laughter began anew.

"_Now now, any more of that and you'll be colder than Abyssinian."_

Omi looked around frantically for any signs of Schuldig, a cold sweat breaking out on his forehead. Whether this was from his still virulent disease or from fear, he wasn't sure. He could feel the German in his head somewhere, but pain was blurring his concentration, and it was hard to get a firm enough hold on his self to cast away the foreign mind.

Somewhere in his mind, Omi was praying for it all to be a dream. Anyone listening… please let it be a dream. He could wake up underneath all of those blankets, and Ken and Yoji and Aya would still be there…

"_Oh no, kitten. This is no dream…"_

"It's your nightmare." Omi turned toward the voice, as fast as his splitting headache would permit. Materializing from the shadows like a sick creature from terrifying dreams, single amber eye gleaming in maniacal pleasure, Farfarello cackled softly. Three knives sprouted from a shoulder like perverted decoration, and bloody ribbons of a bandage dripping unheeded from arms and shoulders.

The Irishman cocked his head, and pulled one blade from his shoulder, eyes closed in twisted ecstasy. The ring of metal grinding against bone made Omi wince and feel sick. But even more overpowering was the clenching in his stomach that accompanied the strong scent of blood. It was dripping on the floor where the madman stood, the drops falling with a soft _plink, plink, plink…_

"Here kitty, kitty, kitty…" Farfarello said in a low gentle voice. The overall effect was more terrifying than anything else. The Irishman held out a bloody hand. Omi shuddered; his body was screaming. He felt himself rise from the couch, and he fought his own movements. He was in so much pain, but he would not give in.

The hand was still extended to him, bright red streaked and running down in slick crimson lines. The blonde shut his eyes tight and shook his head violently, despite the ache it was sending through his brain. He fought his own movement, falling to the floor as his knees gave way.

The madman lowered his hand at Omi's collapse, and started to come closer. Omi felt in his jacket for his arrows. It was a good thing he'd been prepared to go on the mission. Sometimes his foresight paid off. He had darts in the inside of his jacket, in the left pocket…

"You could have told me sooner." A quick hand grabbed his wrist and forced his arm behind him. The blonde could barely resist getting his shoulder dislocated. A hand snaked around his vision, reaching into and pulling the tranquilizers from his pocket. He could smell German beer, and his nose wrinkled in distaste, for more reasons than the fact that he didn't like alcohol.

Amidst the freezer burn in his body sprouted a more familiar sting of pain, in his arm. The empty darts fell to the floor next to him; Schuldig let go and stepped from behind the boy as he fought to stay kneeling upright. Omi saw the German toss a towel to the madman, who was watching him with vague interest.

"It's still awake, Mastermind." The one glittering golden eye never left the swaying form trying to keep conscious.

"Hm? Oh." The last thing Omi saw was a foot moving fast toward his head.


	7. What is he?

I know, I know, _Where the Hell haveyou been? _Busy, very busy. But I promise to finsish this thing, since I love the story so much. And I have new inspiration! Ha ha!

For the record, I own nothing of this except for its original storyline.

0-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-0

Aya drove home quickly after the mission was complete, and everyone in the car was tightlipped and silent. Their target lay dead in a pool of his own blood, and not a single sound had been made. No police would be alerted until someone came to check the hotel room, and the three members of Weiß hoped to be sleeping in when that happened.

Ken leapt from the car, not even waiting for the redhead to stop completely. He was so worried about Omi, especially after what had just happened. It'd almost been hard to focus on the mission, he kept thinking about what Yoji said had happened. He had hoped it was just some kind of flu, but it sounded so much worse.

He was going to take the boy to the hospital, no matter what Manx always said about public disclosure of unexplained suspicious wounds. This was too serious for them to wait for Kritiker to look into. What if the he was going to die? Ken couldn't even think about what it would be like without the blonde. He was family; Ken loved that chibi. They could fix him at the hospital…

"Omi, we're home!" He called, throwing his jacket on the hamper just inside his door and stripping off the sweater tied around his waist. Something felt wrong, making him frown anxiously. Omi's door was open, and the room was empty.

"Omi?" He stuck his head in the open bathroom, but the shower was empty. Eyes wide, he ran into the living room, where Yoji was staring down at Aya. The redhead was hidden behind the couch, kneeling and looking down at the floor. His face was obscured, but a coldness was radiating from him. Panic started to well up in the brunette's throat, dropping a rock in his gut.

"Aya, Omi's missing! He's not in his room… I can't find him anywhere…" Ken was starting to hyperventilate, his words coming out in a panicked rush. He rounded the furniture, half hoping that Omi would be on the ground. His heart sank when it wasn't, and stopped when he saw what was.

Blood on the carpet, and small swatch of gauze a few feet away. Aya stood up and nodded to Yoji, his eyes steel, so cold it seemed they burned. Yoji looked over at Ken, their eyes meeting before Aya stepped between them and went to his room, seemingly in slow motion. Ken took a step toward the older blonde, recoiling from the scarlet spots. His mind put two and two together, and he said only a single word.

"Schwarz." He spit the name out like poison, searing the air with all the hatred he could muster. Yoji nodded, and inside Ken anger flared and blazed, a forest fire igniting his heart. Tears pricked his eyes, and his hands clenched into fists. He shouted in rage, his body trembling with it.

He almost turned and went out the door right there, intent on one thing and that was to find Schwarz and kill every single one of the bastards. How dare they kidnap Omi, who was so sick? The boy never hurt anyone, and he was so weak! But an arm around his chest held him back, and he stood quivering in Yoji's arms.

"I'll kill them… I'll kill them all!" He howled, letting the man hold onto him as the red in his vision slowly faded and his anger smouldered.

"Ken. Ken listen to me! You can't run after them yourself. You'll get yourself killed. We'll get them…we'll find Omi. We'll find him." Yoji whispered fervently in Ken's ear. "We'll bring him back."

Aya had already called Kritiker, threatened that if they didn't start looking for Omi immediately he would search the city himself. Now he was angrily staring out the window, willing the night to freeze so he could find their teammate.

If anyone deserved a second chance at life it was Omi. Of all four of them those sky blue eyes were the only ones that always held onto the vibrancy of life… no dark beast would extinguish that light in Omi's eyes. Not while Aya still breathed.

His sword lay on the bed, ready to be drawn once more. Aya walked past it without looking at it, but hatred made his eyes stone.

"_Manx, he's been kidnapped!"_

"_Abyssinian, you cannot go out tonight, not after you just completed a mission. Your safety-"_

"_-Omi's safety! He's hurt, damn it!"_

"_We'll get on it, Aya."_

"_Now."_

"_We can't."_

"_Then I will search every building in this city for Omi."_

"_You do and we will be forced to terminate you. Who will take care of Aya then?"_

"_Leave her out of it! … If you don't have information tomorrow we're going on our own."_

"_A-aya…"_

_slam_

Streetlight flashed on the face of a blonde with pale cold skin, but the brightness didn't wake him. Schuldig grinned to himself as he reached over and stroked the boy's hair with one hand, the other on the steering wheel. Farfarello had Omi in his lap; his eye gleamed maliciously, and with awe.

"Is Bradley right?" the Irishman's voice was quiet.

"It looked like it didn't it? But only he knows." The German put a finger to his head. "He knows eeeverythiiing." The sarcasm ate holes in the air. Farfarello didn't notice, his full attention back on the boy.

"I want to hurt him… but he makes God cry. The Father made a mistake when He made you, didn't He?" Farfarello said softly, touching Omi's forehead. "He let the monsters destroy His pretty angel, and make it like them… does He cry when He sees you?"

"Farf stop that, it's creepy. It's just a Weiß kitten." Schu made a disgusted face as they pulled into the driveway. "Now hurry up, get him inside before anyone really notices." Which was an empty threat, really. Schu kept everyone who lived in this neighborhood blissfully unaware of the building four houses down from the corner.

They brought him into the living room where Crawford was already sitting, his fingers steepled as he waited for them. He rose as they entered, and motioned towards the couch in the corner with a hand. Farfarello dumped the unconscious body unceremoniously.

Nagi's head peered around the doorframe, watching with silent blank eyes. Schu caught the movement and turned on him, letting Crawford do what whatever he was doing in favor of the opportunity to tease the boy.

"Oi, Nagikins, we've brought a kitty home for you to play with. You like it?"

"Shut _up_, Schuldig. You'll wake him up." Crawford cut off the German and Nagi's head fled back behind the wall. The American straightened, his smile satisfied. He strode past a hungry looking Farfarello to his desk in the adjoining room. "And don't let Berserker touch him yet."

"Crawford, he's not dangerous. We picked him right up-" Schuldig began, then noticed Farfarello inching closer and smacked his hand away from the couch. Crawford grew serious, the smile fading as if it had never been.

"Oh he's dangerous, Schu. I'm calling Eszet, so be quiet." He turned his back and dialed the phone. It rang once… this was an amazing find. Takatori's work had all been destroyed in the fire, and his superiors had been very unhappy about the loss of it. Very unhappy indeed.

Twice… He brushed the files on the desk with his hand. It'd taken so long to decipher, then to track down the subject of the story written between the lines. He'd followed a hunch and now the proof was lying on his couch.

"Yes, it's Crawford. We found it."

Schuldig shook his head at the insane formality of the American. Don't go out to clubs when there's work to do, don't be so lazy, don't touch the Weiß boy… sometimes he just wanted to pull a gun to their frustrating leader's head.

Movement on the couch made him go back to the living room. The boy was stirring from his sleep, and Farfarello looked as anxious as a cat staring at a petrified mouse. Better do something about that, or their esteemed know-it-all would be angry. He put a hand on the Irishman's arm and pulled him away. It took a lot of effort.

"Come on Farfikins, time for bed. You can play with the kitty tomorrow." The golden eyed Irishman was already tensing to fight the German off, but Schuldig pressed with his mind. Make him tired… tell his body to shut down… Farfarello stumbled as Schuldig reached out to catch him.

Honestly, how could they ever control the man if Schuldig wasn't a telepath? The thought made Schuldig smirk amusedly as he half drug the psycho to his room. Panic in the streets as an Irish murderer killed whole families in a single night, leaving a broken survivor to live alone. He could see the newspapers now.

As he strapped Farfarello in for the night he made a mental note to ask Crawford about the idea. Maybe they could let the Irishman go for just a day or two, just to make things interesting. Life was so much more flavorful when chaos was rampant in the streets. A wonderful spicy sweetness to flavor their minds, it was all he could ask for.

He could still hear Bradley on the phone when he reentered the living room. Numbers, dates, and so many things Schu couldn't give a rat's ass about. He scoffed and sat backwards on a chair to watch their little captive. He brushed the boy's mind with his, and almost fell over in surprise.

"What the…?" He couldn't see anything. It was there, his mind and memories, but it was as if they were underneath a dark curtain. He could see the silhouette of those thoughts, but no definition. No detail, nothing. It tasted and smelled like metal and ashes. He could almost feel it like a taint, like oil on water when you touch it.

Then his concentration was broken as Omi shifted into slight consciousness, opening shining blue eyes that made the German gasp. Were they that blue at the boy's flower shop? He didn't think so, and now they were so bright. The boy was staring at him and through him, as if the psychic wasn't there.

Crawford had said he was sick, and the blonde was feverish when they picked him up. Suddenly Schu wondered if he was going to die on him. Oh man would Crawford be pissed then. And Eszet would be right on his tail. They wanted their captive alive, and probably wouldn't mind killing the one who killed him.

"Come on kid, pull it together." He grumbled, and got up to move next to the boy. Bombay's skin was cold, and Schu made a face as he shoved the boy over so he could sit down. He wasn't squeamish often, but this was kind of creeping him out. "Damn it, if you're contagious and I get this, you are so…"

Bombay was sitting up, his eyes locked with Schuldig's. They almost reminded him of Nagi's empty eyes, except they were so much bluer. Like the brightest summer sky… he couldn't think straight. His heartbeat beat faster in his ears and his spine sent tingles along his body as if his instincts were separate from him, and terrified.

But there was nothing to be afraid of, it was just this sick kid who couldn't even stand. Omi reached out, moving a little closer. Schu didn't move, staring into those blue, blue eyes. Something in his mind was screaming, but he couldn't hear it clearly and payed it no mind. The boy didn't say a word as he pressed close. Somehow his skin had warmed.

Unconsciously Schu put his arms around the little blonde. The boy placed his hands on the older man's chest, making his heart pound. Schuldig could hear him breathe next to his ear, could feel him tremble… Omi put his lips on the man's neck, and Schu closed his eyes. It felt so good… so beautiful…

The brief flash of precognition made Crawford's eyes widen. He dropped the phone with numb hands, sending it crashing to the desk. He flew from the room into the adjoining living room. The two were sitting there, for all the world looking like two sweet lovers.

"Schuldig get away!" He only had a moment to act, so he did the only thing he could think of, and crashed into the couch. It fell over and sent all three of them sprawling in different directions across the floor. Crawford was up first, and grabbed the gun Schuldig always carried. He quickly got over to the boy and knocked him unconscious with the weapon.

"I told you he was dangerous." He accused the German, who was shaking his head like he'd just been hit himself. Crawford dropped the gun next to the long haired man and stormed back to phone to apologize for the interruption.

Schuldig stared horrified at the boy, his breathing heavy. He felt like he'd just been saved from drowning… oh that was horrifying. That yawning emptiness that opened in his head, beckoning him to throw himself in. It made his skin crawl, that hideous sickness in that boy's mind…

"Crawford, what the _hell_ is he?"

0-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-0

Anyone know yet? You should know by now what Omi is, and maybe why. We'll see.

* * *


End file.
